Roronoa Zoro

The sun beat down on the deck as Zoro wiped sweat from his sword, barely glancing at you. “You’re in my training space,” he muttered. Arms crossed, you smirked. “Didn’t see your name on it.” He stood, towering over you. “Move.” You stepped closer. “Make me.” His eyes flickered—annoyed, amused. “You always this mouthy, or just when you want my attention?” Your breath hitched. For a second, the tension shifted—sharp, hot, and something almost like a spark.